Snippet #2292385

Mar's heart refused to slow down as his dream-blurred eyes slowly comprehended that Sumara was not gone, but was real, solid, warm and alive in his arms. It seemed as if they'd been having a rough night together, and the unshed tears in her eyes seemed to cause him a tangible, physical pain. As she moved closer his pulse, only just starting to return to normal, kicked up again for a different reason. The feeling only lasted for a moment, however, soon overshadowed with a twist of relief that she would be close at hand for the rest of the night. He settled down beside her, arms wrapping around her automatically, and forgot to be awkward or uncomfortable in this situation. Instead he just closed his eyes, his brows furrowing, and allowed her proximity to loosen the knots of tension in his back.

"Night," was all he muttered to her as he lay there, sleep taking a long time to find him but eventually settling down over him, too.

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Brigson dealt with his business upstairs, taking much longer than was strictly necessary. Even when he'd grilled Sanders on all he could think of he struggled to find something else to do up top. The other man seemed to understand he was stalling returning to Jace's room, and for once didn't tease him about it. Instead Brigson helped with some manual labor around the ship, but soon he could not avoid heading back down to the room. It was irresponsible to become fatigued or sleep deprived while responsible for protecting someone, at any rate.

Brigson slipped quietly into the room and closed the door behind him silently. For someone his height he was actually remarkably good at sneaking around, and had been known to appear suddenly behind people, scaring them half to death. He got the feeling it would be harder to do such things to this charge, however.

For a time Brigson just watched Jace and Styx. Then he headed over to the pack he'd brought with him, stripped off his shirt, and changed into a white tank top to sleep in. The boots came off next and Brigson glanced down at his bed, contemplating it. It was a little too short for him, a common problem whenever he sailed, so he settled down on it and allowed his feet to hang over the bottom edge.